We Counted the Stars
by WhatsWithLuna3
Summary: Sometimes you have to look deeper into the things we want to find the most. Because they're not always there and, if they are, they're always disguised as something you never thought they'd be.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **all rights and characters belong to the amazing J. K. Rowling, whom I worship like crazy XD

**A/n: **I'm writing this fanfic out of pure fun, but also because it gives me a chance to really think about everything that's going on. This type of story isn't really my style of writing, as mine is usually more in the direction comedy and fluff, but no hate please! It's my first time and I'm trying to get better at it... Also, I haven't really figured out a plot yet soooooooooo... give it some time, I guess? Anyway, enjoy :)

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**Chapter 1**

It had started out as a simple visit, a strip of what she prefers to call normality on a blank paper filled with chaos. It's ironic, as white is meant to symbolize peace and tranquility. But not for her. For her, white is pandemonium and insanity. For him, it's hell.

It had merely been a visit. Visits are frequent when it comes to the two of them. She needs them to keep her mental stability, whereas he simply needs Something. Whatever the Something is, he can never explain. He had tried once, a while ago, by using metaphors.

'It's the something that makes cakes taste so good,' he had told them, trying so hard not to sound as crazy as he actually was.

'So sugar,' they had replied. It was always the same reply. He had shaken his head but had not said anything else. He grew tired easily, and these particular conversations exhausted him. The Something can't be explained. It's just a concept that is meant to be understood by itself, without meaningless attempts to try and make others grasp the fact that you are not crazy. If you don't understand, you don't understand. If you do, then good for you.

Yet she does not need his tiring efforts of trying to make her see what the Something is. She doesn't know what he means, but she managed to convince herself that it is an abstract notion that she will understand in due time.

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So that was the first chapter. Good? Bad? Terrible? Reviews would help me a lot! Thanks! WhatsWithLuna3


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER: **the characters still aren't mine, although the weird, leading- to- nowhere plot is... all credits to the fabulous J. K. Rowling!

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It had been a simple visit. He had been hospitalized three times in one month for attempted suicide. She never once tried to stop him. She knew he would try, but why would he leave without having successfully told her what the Something is, or without having shown the world that they are all fools? She knows he wouldn't do that. He is too intelligent, too cunning, too wise to do something as foolish as that. She knows that if he really, _really_ wanted out he would have managed a long time ago on the first try.

The first time he was brought to St. Mungo's was because of slit wrists.

'Painful and agonizing,' he told the Healers in a matter- of- fact tone. They checked for a concussion immediately after that.

She wasn't waiting for him outside the doors. She had known he would do this, yes, but she wasn't there to wait for the Healers to sort out the shit he was supposed to sort out for himself. She wasn't waiting for him, at least not the first time. She was there because of an anxiety attack she had gotten after stepping into a crowded elevator at the Ministry.

'Like a colony of ants on a tiny piece of cheese,' she told him later, shuddering, after he'd asked her.

She was given some medications and told she could leave. She got up off the hard hospital bed and was about to leave, but was startled by the noise of a certain patient yelling in the room next to hers. She went to check, silently pushing the door open, only to find him in his bed, an annoyed look on his pale face.

He showed no signs of surprise when he saw her, and neither did she, for she had known he was there, just not next door. But she didn't say anything when she pushed the door wide open and leaned against the doorframe, her arms folded on her chest.

When she raised her eyebrows in expectation he said, 'They confiscated my Swiss army knife,' while scowling down at his bandaged wrists.

She didn't reply and he didn't add anything, yet she remained standing there, just watching him, until the Healers dismissed him two hours later.

They walked home in silence, both forgetting the use and value of their wands, and it wasn't until they reached a path separating into two different directions that they spoke.

'I'm left,' she said, even though he very well knew that already.

'So go left,' he replied, calmly lifting the bandage on his left wrist so as to curiously inspect the wound.

She said nothing, merely walked onto the path the led where she was supposed to go. It was only a few meters later when he called out to her and she turned around to answer.

'Why?' he asked.

He didn't need to expand the simple question. It was vague, yes, and it is the fundamental question that possesses our universe, but she knew what he meant. She did not stop walking as she answered; she merely turned her head and said simply, 'Life.'

He nodded, because he knew exactly what it meant. Then he apparated to his empty flat and went straight to bed, ignoring the bloodstains on his bedside table.

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And that was chapter 2... Good? Bad? Terrible? Any reviews would help me a lot! Thanks! WhatsWithLuna3


	3. Chapter 3

**DISCLAIMER: **not mine, never was, never will be... talking about the characters, of course... :D

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The second time was one week later. She was the one who had found him unconscious his empty kitchen, and she was the one who had barely batted an eyelash when she'd found him with a small white bottle in his clenched hand and a bloody forehead. She had calmly picked him up and apparated to St. Mungo's.

He woke up an hour later with a bandaged head and a dizzy mind. She was sitting at the end of his bed, coolly reading a magazine.

'Pills, Malfoy,' she said, flipping the page, as soon as she heard him stir. It was not a question, nor was it exactly a statement. It felt more like she was reminding him of what happened.

He smirked. 'Don't I know it, Granger.'

'Why?' It was the same question he had asked her the last time they had spoken, but he replied as though it stood for something else.

'Quick and simple.'

She didn't tell him to answer the question the way _she_ had answered it. Instead, she stood up and threw the magazine she had been reading onto the tile floor and kicked it under the bed.

'Fucking load of bullshit,' she spat. Then she added, looking at him, 'Let's go.'

'Right behind you, Granger,' came his muttered reply as he scrambled out of bed.

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**A/n: **Sorry it's so short but the next chapter will be longer, I promise! Read and review! WhatsWithLuna3


	4. Chapter 4

**DISCLAIMER: **well, now, i don't have to go through the torture of having to admit that the characters aren't mine _again_, right? XD

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She visited him a few days after he was released from St. Mungo's. He hadn't expected her, but let her in anyway without much hesitation. She entered the apartment and was led to the kitchen in silence, but she was grateful, because she couldn't find any appropriate excuse as to why she was there.

He showed her the table and she sat down without invitation, but he didn't mind. He finds seating invitations stupid. Why should you be invited to sit down? It's up to you. If you're tired, you sit. If you're not, you stand. Why should someone tell you something you can do and know yourself?

'It's too empty, Malfoy,' she said a moment after he sat down opposite her. She looked around the empty kitchen, taking in every bare wall and corner.

'I don't need it to be full,' he replied indifferently. She reminded him of Pansy and his mother. They always say the exact same thing when they come to visit. 'At least when it's empty I get to have the freedom of imagining what could be in here.'

'Why imagine when you can have?'

'That's a stupid question for a smart person, Granger.'

That stopped the conversation. She sighed and looked around again, finally keeping her gaze on the wall in front of her, the one he was turning his back to.

'But you painted the walls,' she said, as though there had been no pause in their conversation.

He turned his head to look at the wall and shrugged coolly. 'I can't have white walls, Granger.'

'Neither can I,' she said softly.

He smirked at her but didn't say anything. Instead he stood up and looked like he wanted to look for something, but he remained still and suddenly looked lost and confused. His pale blond hair was messy and ruffled and his wrists still red from his previous hospitalization. His grey eyes were glassy and flitted back and forth between different places in the kitchen, while his breathing became slightly jagged and shuddery.

'Malfoy?'

He has moments like these where he completely forgets what's going on. It's like a tic, and he remembers where he is and what he's doing again after a while, but she dislikes when it happens. It makes her feel vulnerable and uncomfortable, because she feels like she's intruding on something private and embarrassing. He hates when it happens, not only because he's the victim, but because it reminds him that he's still alive, that he's still a functioning body that is able to feel pain. He forgets it every once in a while, and he's fine with it, but when he has these attacks he remembers that he's not dead. At least not really.

But he came out of the reverie as soon as she said his name. He shook his head and frowned, then opened his empty fridge and pulled out the only thing he had in there: a bottle of white wine. He waved his wand to uncork it and sat back down again.

She eyed the bottle. 'What's the occasion?'

He shrugged and said, 'It's getting old,' before taking a drink. He swallowed the sweet, fizzy liquid, shuddering as it slithered down his throat, then he passed it to her. Her fingers coiled around the neck of the cold bottle and she raised it to her lips, taking a hearty gulp.

'So, Granger, to what do I owe this pleasure?' Malfoy took the bottle from her and took another sip.

She licked her lips. 'No reason.'

'There must be a reason, Granger.'

'No, I just dropped by.'

'If you say so.' He smirked at her, but did not say anything else. He wanted her to start the conversation again. Sometimes he needs the others to start talking. It makes him feel like he wants to be talked to. It doesn't happen with most people. She isn't one of them. In fact, she started speaking again as soon as she pulled the wine away from her lips.

'You could have died, Malfoy.' She knew it wasn't true; if he was serious he would have made it a while ago. But she still wanted him to know he could really do it one day. As if he didn't know.

'Don't I know it, Granger,' he replied, repeating what he had told her back at the hospital.

'I saved your fucking life.' Again, she knew she didn't. Not really. But the alcohol was rising to her brain, engulfing her thoughts like waves swallowing sand and rocks, and she wanted to argue, to give her a chance to shout, to feel powerful again. The wine was making her angry at everything that had already happened, but he didn't have to know that. She wanted to make him feel guilty, but she knew she couldn't. He isn't stupid.

'Don't flatter yourself, Granger,' he said coldly as he took another sip. He didn't pass it back to her, so she had to lean over the table and wrench it out of his grasp. He let her take it, but not before adding, 'I hate that sentence.'

That caught her off- guard. She pulled the wine back to her but did not drink. Instead, she cocked her head to the right and frowned. 'What sentence?'

She could still feel the anger bubbling like lava at the bottom of a volcano, but she did not let it erupt like she had been planning to a minute ago. She let it cool by drinking more of the wine, even though it was like adding fuel to the flames. But she ignored the feeling that was not unlike fire in her throat, and kept her eyes fixed on his pale face. 'What sentence?' she repeated, afraid he hadn't heard the first time.

'I heard you the first time.' He waited until she passed him the bottle again (quite reluctantly) before he continued.

'You said you saved my fucking life,' he said flatly, tapping his fingers against the smooth glass, 'and I said I hate that sentence.' He stuck a finger into the bottle and wiped the inside of the neck, as far as his finger could go, and licked it clean, tasting the wine as well as the other flavors his finger had managed to attract like a magnet. 'You can't save lives, Granger. Life goes on or ends whenever it fucking wants.'

'Bullshit,' she replied in a low voice. 'If you were dying, and I gave you a potion that cured whatever it is that's killing you then I saved your life. Because it was ending, but I stopped it from ending.'

'Touché, Granger.' He raised the bottle as though in a toast, clearing his throat.

'Then that just proves you're wrong.'

'No, that just proves your mind isn't as abstract as it's supposed to be.'

'I don't need my mind to be abstract,' he heard her mumbled reply. He shrugged and stayed quiet, pushing the wine towards her, but she didn't take it. She pushed the half- full bottle back to him, but he shook his head, so it remained in the middle of the table, and for a moment it looked like a weird version of "No Man's Land".

There was no clock in the kitchen, so neither of them could tell how long they had been sitting there, drinking wine and arguing. They needed a clock, whether they wanted to admit it or not. She needs it to count the loud ticks to it distract her from her raging mind when she isn't talking, and he needs it because without it he can't tell how much he still has to endure of what seems to him like a perpetual life.

'I should go,' she said at some point. He didn't know how long they had been sitting in silence, both suffering from the lack of a ticking clock, but he wished at least an hour had passed. At least an hour.

'Going to Weasley's?' he sneered as she stood up heavily.

She sighed, exasperated, though if she was exasperated with him or with Weasley, he didn't know. 'He's probably worried.'

'He's not your father, Granger,' he reminded her.

'Neither are you, Malfoy.' She smirked slightly as she slipped into her coat.

'Never said I was.'

'Goodbye, Malfoy,' was all she said. She left the kitchen and a minute later he heard the door close.

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**A/n: **that was a longer chapter... did you like it? good? bad? terrible? Read and review! WhatsWithLuna3


	5. Chapter 5

**DISCLAIMER: ***sing song voice* not miiiiiiineeeeeeee

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The third time he was hospitalized was four days after her visit. He had collapsed just as he apparated into Harry and Ron's flat. He hadn't said anything. They hadn't even been expecting him.

'Bloody hell!' yelled Ron as soon as the blond appeared out of thin air in their living room.

'Malfoy?' cried Harry, disbelieved. But the blond had already collapsed onto their carpet, out cold.

He woke up seven hours later naked in a stiff bed with a tube stuck in his arm and stomach. He raised his pale eyebrows as he eyed the transparent tubes curiously and raised a hand slowly so as to touch one of them.

'Don't touch them, Malfoy.'

He looked up and saw her sitting on the other side of the room in one of the infamous plastic orange chairs. He smirked at her messy hair and purple bags under her eyes.

'Been waiting for me, Granger?' he mocked half- heartedly.

'Don't flatter yourself.' She narrowed her eyes slightly as she said that, but almost immediately they softened again. 'Starvation and dehydration, you bloody arse,' she added exasperatedly.

His mouth formed an O and he looked back down at the tube that was attached to his stomach. He squinted and could see what looked like liquidated food passing up the tube and into his skin. 'I thought only dehydration,' he mused out loud.

She scowled and walked over to him, plopping herself down on the edge of his bed. 'You're an idiot,' she hissed.

'Nothing new, then,' he replied immediately, staring up at the ceiling. He didn't feel very self- conscious by the fact that he was naked and she was sitting in very close proximity to him. Nakedness was nothing to be ashamed of, and he was secretly glad she wasn't blushing because of the fact that he wasn't wearing any clothes. Besides, he was used to women seeing him naked.

There was a sudden breeze that sent goose bumps up and down his nude body, and he hugged the thin, hard sheets closer to himself. 'Christ, Granger, close the damn windows!'

She shook her head in alarm. 'I can't,' she told him weakly. 'I'm in a white room, Malfoy. I need the windows and doors to be open, you know that.'

'Oh,' was all he said. It was now that he realized the room's walls were painted white. He, too, had problems with them, unable to stay in a room with all four walls white, but her fear wasn't as deep as his. She couldn't be in a white room unless the windows and doors remained open and there was someone else with her, whereas he could only stay in a white room for at least forty minutes before his paranoia would kick in.

He cleared his throat. The white sheets and walls were starting to make him feel uneasy, and he could feel the back of his neck beginning to moisten. He had to distract himself. He was starting to slip. 'So when can I get out of here, Granger?' he asked her, trying to cover his desperation with a cool tone.

She swallowed and shrugged. She could see what was coming, but she couldn't stop it. 'I think you'll have to stay overnight here, Malfoy.'

'I can't,' he said; panic was now swallowing him like quicksand. 'I can't, Granger. You know I fucking can't.' He looked at her with beseeching eyes, and she could feel the fear radiating from the grey orbs. 'Convince them otherwise. I can't stay here, Granger,' he repeated desperately.

But all she could do was shake her head sadly. 'I'm sorry, Malfoy, I can't do anything about it.'

'Fuck,' he whispered. '_Fuck_. FUCK!' He began scrambling in his bed because he had to get out, away from the white walls, from the white sheets. His vision became blinded, all he could see was the damned color, and he began to scream in agony.

'Malfoy!' she shouted in fright. She jumped off the bed and grabbed his arm to calm him down. 'Malfoy! Stop! _Please_, Draco!'

But he didn't stop. He couldn't stop. Panic is something you can never end. It follows you to your grave. He pulled his arm out of her grasp and buried his face in his hands, screaming into his palm and fingers. All he could see was white. It was as if the walls were closing in on him, squeezing the life out of his open mouth. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't see. Thick white fog clouded his mind. Somewhere in a far away tunnel he could hear her screaming and pleading with him, but he couldn't stop. He couldn't get out. He was stuck. Stuck in the perpetual whiteness. His fingers scratched at his face, marking his finger with long, deep red gashes from under his eyes to his chin. His face was covered in a mask of whiteness, and he needed to get it off himself before he suffocated.

'Get it off!' he screamed. '_I can't breathe_! Get it_ OFF_! _PLEASE_!' He needed to get away. But he couldn't move. He was bound by the white sheets, stopping his limbs from moving, cutting off his blood circulation everywhere. He emitted a piercing yet constricted scream that cut through her heart like a knife slicing through smooth water. The last thing he heard was, 'Help him! PLEASE!' before he felt something sharp enter the side of his neck. He flopped onto the floor in three seconds, no longer seeing white.

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**A/n: **good? bad? terrible? read and review! Thanks! WhatsWithLuna3


	6. Chapter 6

**DISCLAIMER: **its STILL not mine... :(

**A/n: **I've gotten a review saying that something needs to be told in the story: first of all, THANK YOU SO MUCH for the review, I really appreciate it! And secondly, I haven't really figured out a plot yet, and there _are_ a lot of things to be told, but I've made it a bit unclear because these things are unclear to the characters themselves. Does that make sense? I hope so... Oh, and don't worry, more characters will be introduced soon :)

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The third hospitalization was not spoken of between the two after he was released. He was drugged before he left St. Mungo's so he could relax and have a dreamless sleep in which he did not feel like he was being attacked by his hallucinations.

'Just bring him home and put him straight to bed,' his healer told her. 'That's all you need to do. He'll be fine once he's asleep, and he'll be the same once he wakes up.'

She didn't reply when she was told all this. She nodded but did not smile nor smirk like he would. She simply grabbed his wrist and turned on the spot. They were squeezed through an invisible tube and came out in his flat. He blinked at his surroundings, at his mostly empty living room, and sighed a shudder-y sigh.

'Let's get you to bed, Malfoy,' she said tiredly, trying to put his arm around her shoulders. But he didn't move. He remained standing still, staring at the only two pieces of furniture in his living room: the sofa and the coffee table.

'Malfoy, let's go.'

'You know why it's so empty... here?' he asked her suddenly, apparently not having heard her talk. His words were slow and slurred, and his eyes were glazed and half- closed. She guessed the drugs were acting on him, and she knew that now was the best time to put him to bed, but she didn't, because the analytical, not tampered- with part of her mind was telling her to listen to him. After all, don't drugs sometimes bring out the worst in you? But then again, maybe in his case the worst of him was the best of him. That is what she thinks of him, anyway.

'Why, Malfoy?' she replied weakly, hanging onto his arm.

He turned his head to look at her; groggily he tried to focus on her face, but then he looked back at the sofa. 'It's because... because it's empty like... me. I'm... empty.'

She didn't know how to reply to this. But it's not because she didn't know what to say. She always has an answer, and that was the problem here: she had too many answers. She didn't know which one to pick. So she picked the one that needed less energy to formulate. 'Oh?'

He swallowed with difficulty and blinked rapidly. 'I'm... empty, Granger.

'I would say everyone is empty, Malfoy,' she replied haughtily. 'The war empties people. I should know.'

'You're... empty. Too,' he said suddenly. It seemed like an epiphany to him, and he turned his whole body to have her in his full view.

'I am,' she replied calmly. She let go of his arm and saw that he was swaying, and his eyes were drooping slightly. So she sighed and added, 'Come on, Malfoy.'

But neither moved. It was silent, save for the crickets chirping their moonlight sonatas in the bushes outside.

Then he leaned in and kissed her.

She did not respond, nor did she push him away. He pulled away after a moment. He stared at the brunette witch through unfocused eyes, then collapsed onto the ugly maroon carpet, the drugs finally pulling him down like an anchor.

She had sighed silently as his lips left hers. It wasn't so much a sigh of relief than one of happiness. She doesn't feel those two emotions very often these days.

Her eyebrows met as she cast a look at the passed- out blond. Had she been in a better state of mind she would have certainly done something to help him. But she wasn't. Instead, she whipped out her wand from inside her jacket and summoned his blanket and a pillow from his bedroom. She slipped the pillow under his blond head and tucked the covers around his softly- breathing body. Then, after a quick glance at his sleeping face, she turned on the spot and apparated to her own flat, where she fell asleep on her couch, a small bottle of white pills on her coffee table a few inches away.

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**A/n: **for those who are following this story and reviewing, THANKS SO MUCH! it REALLY helps! Anyway, was this chapter good? bad? terrible? read and review! thanks! WhatsWithLuna3


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